


purple prose

by txrdisblues



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Episode: s02e13 Doomsday, Purple Prose, doctorroseprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10513038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txrdisblues/pseuds/txrdisblues
Summary: Directly after losing Rose to Pete's World, the Doctor's mind reels. Dramatically.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt on the doctorroseprompts tumblr for april fool’s - purple prose; “text that is so extravagant, ornate, or flowery as to break the flow and draw excessive attention to itself. Purple prose is characterized by the extensive use of adjectives, adverbs, and metaphors.” I don’t know if I did it correctly or not, but hell. This was just too much fun to pass up. I hope you like it!

He thought he could be filled with no more indignation, but yet every moment that ticked away was more unbearable than its antecedent. Oh, what torture this was! To be in such desperation and know no cure could be harvested, no matter what sizable want was overtaking him. He had an overwhelming desire that could never be achieved, an impossible thirst that was even more impossible to quench. He had the entire universe - endless galaxies and stars and planets and moons! - at the tips of his lanky fingers and yet that array of fantasia lacked the only thing he actually wanted.

Rose.

Rose was gone.

And so irreversibly so! Like pouring salt into a cake batter instead of sugar and realizing only a moment to late this fatal error - his Rose had been poured into the wrong universe, and there was no way to get her back. How could he? Was he to pick at the cake batter until every granule of salt was impossibly vanquished? Was he to keep taking stabs in the dark when he knew Rose would never be there? It would be more time consuming and troubling to try and separate sodium from sweet than to just start over. It would be more time consuming and upsetting to keep trying to venture into a universe that would never even come close to appearing on the list of his conceivable destinations.

And yet, how could he start over? How could there be anyone else in his world when he had focused so on making Rose the center of it? There had been the Time War, and then the incessant pain of being The Last of the Time Lords. But then there was a department store, and a cellar, and a girl, and his heart in that very moment had rested in the hand of hers that grasped his as they ran away.

Ran away she had.

He'd always be chasing her. This white wall that stood before him was the most glaring reminder of that. He wished to punch through it, yet his arms felt too leaden to do so. How could he raise them when he knew he'd never raise them to meet her in a hug again? But! How could he sit here and do nothing? He had to enact in some form that made him relish in the feeling that he was at least doing something, even if it held no true meaning.

There were so many facades he could entertain, he finally realized.

The one he had championed most recently had been that of the fairytale encircling a certain pink and yellow human and a word sounding more or less like "forever." As he walked back to the TARDIS, he entertained the idea of finding some cure to this horrid disease that seemed to plague him; this lonesome feeling that was akin to losing the Time War all over again. It was just like it had been then: _Perhaps I can go out into that beautiful macrocosm of existence and discover what I'm looking for._

And that was what he did. Entertain. Idea after idea, story after story, fantasy after fantasy. Chasing that elusive dream of a beautiful girl down a winding road of impossibility. Would he ever find its end, he pondered? Perhaps he might never learn. Perhaps he'd never know if they'd meet again.

Until then, though, on he carried.


End file.
